


XXX Secret

by threewalls



Category: KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Exhibitionism, House Cleaning, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Service
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-08
Updated: 2010-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kamenashi knows the importance of presentation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	XXX Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jtriskell](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jtriskell).



> This story is a work of fiction involving non-fictional persons.
> 
> NB. The title and Ueda's brief song quotation are both from _Sadistic Love_, which is from KAT-TUN's album Break the Records. KAT-TUN!fan-checked by jtriskell, but all errors are my own.

Kamenashi has known Ueda for nearly ten years, now more a friend than a guest, and this is what friends do, help each other out. There's no one here to give Kamenashi crap about being on his hands and knees behind Ueda's kitchen counter, scrubbing at the floor.

And, ok, Kamenashi took his shirt off, but he didn't want to get it dirty (clearly a good idea, since his knees are soaked through the splits in his jeans). He knows the importance of presentation. Akanishi would have just talked trash about Ueda's housekeeping.

Whatever. Akanishi's gone. Again. This time for good.

Kamenashi knows where everything is, the sponges and the bucket and the floorwash, because it's been the same the last few times Kamenashi has visited. Not very dirty, just enough to catch his eye: this time, it's a just a small clump of rice, less than a mouthful. But if you can see that, who knows what you can't see, right? He can't believe it doesn't bother Ueda more.

"Oy, Ueda!" Kamenashi calls. He can't remember what Ueda said he had to do, but whatever it was, the apartment's small. He leans up, starting to sit up onto his knees. "Don't you ever get someone in to clean your place?"

"Yeah. You."

From behind, Ueda's foot pushes Kamenashi back down onto his hands, his foot sliding to rest on the small of Kamenashi's back. Standing back to back, they're the same height, though Ueda usually looks smaller. His foot is warm on Kamenashi's back, but heavy, rough probably because he goes barefoot so often. It's skin on skin and somehow means Kamenashi doesn't want to sit up any more.

"You've visited four times in the last six months, and every time, I catch you on your knees on my kitchen floor. Do you just like getting wet that much?"

Ueda taps Kamenashi on the back of his calves with something small and hard, left and then right. Kamenashi shifts his knees wider. It seems like the thing to do.

"What are you doing?"

"_Cry more. Knock knock on the secret door_," Ueda sings. "If you say you didn't know I was an S, I'll hit you with the stick again. Harder, this time."

"What? You think I'm an m?" Kamenashi asks.

Ueda laughs. "Guess what I'm holding in my hand."

"A walking stick."

The flat of the stick taps Kamenashi lightly along his ribs.

"In the other hand," Ueda says. "You only get one hint."

In his front pocket, Kamenashi's phone chirps: one new media message. His phone vibrates.

"You can get that," Ueda says, and probably smiles sweetly while watching the contortions Kamenashi goes through to actually get his phone out of his trousers. That he has to lean down onto his elbows to actually watch the screen without losing his balance. The floor's wet; it's slippery.

Kamenashi watches himself undress, hat and vest on the counter, the stretch of the muscles of his back as he pulled his T-shirt up over his head. Leaning over the sink to fix his hair in its reflection; he'd forgotten that. Filling up the bucket, going down on his knees. Without the long hem of his shirt, he can see that these trousers pull tight when he bends over. He's still bent over. It's hard stopping himself from adjusting his pose.

The clip runs just long enough for Kamenashi to start to turn towards the camera, a twist in his shoulders that just stops the minute Ueda's foot steps onto his back. Ueda's foot feels heavier now that Kamenashi can see what it looked like, the way his back arched under the weight.

"It's a good angle." Kamenashi says. No reason not to act casual about this.

"It's a good pose. Did you think about someone filming you?"

Kamenashi can't think of what to say to that.

"I don't know if you're an m. I don't think you know, either. But I think you're whatever I want you to be as long as I keep recording you," Ueda says.

"You're still recording?"

The second clip is even shorter. It stops just before Kamenashi manages to get his phone open, just after he leans down to watch. It's a shame Ueda's filming from behind, because the next bit would be better shot from the front, catching Kamenashi's face while he watches himself. Kamenashi groans, catching himself thinking about _producing_ something like this.

"I thought so. It's better with an audience for you, isn't it, Kame-chan?"

Ueda's walking stick caresses the side of Kamenashi's face, guiding him to face right. Kamenashi has to close his eyes. What he must look like. That Ueda has a copy of what he must look like right now.

"Will you send me the rest?"

"If you're good," Ueda says. "But I don't think that'll be a problem. C'mon, Kame, over there on the right. You missed a spot."

\---

MC  
8/8/10


End file.
